


Performance Review

by JessiSweet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Breathplay, F/M, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1669481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessiSweet/pseuds/JessiSweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This may only be a temporary position but it is always practical to have a performance review.</p><p>AU: Instead of it being Dean Winchester, it is Dean Smith from season 4 episode 17 "It's a Terrible Life".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Performance Review

You pulled on your pencil skirt as you stared into the bathroom mirror; you still couldn’t believe that you were working a corporate job. Sure it was just as a temp secretary but still, this was some shit you never expected. Despite it being just a temporary thing, you wanted to make a good impression, which, by the way, you were not. You messed up the boss’ coffee order (who knew a guy like him would order such a weird thing? No foam? Really?), you accidentally deleted one of the meetings from his electronic calendar and on top of it all, you just spilled your own coffee on a very important cover letter just mere moments ago. You wiped your skirt clean once more and resided on the fact that you were just going to end up smelling like coffee for the rest of the day before heading out and back towards your desk. 

It wasn’t easy working here at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc. but it was a job. Especially since it was as the secretary to the Director of Sales and Marketing. He had a hard job and was in charge of quite a lot and you expected that was why he was being incredibly critical of your work. But these little blunders you were making were costing him money and he frequently reminded you of the fact. 

You slipped back into your chair finished cleaning up the last few soaked papers before turning your attention to the screen and reprinting out the cover letter. Your boss’ door was shut as you fixed the important document that was supposed to be on someone else’s desk more than 10 minutes ago and you said a silent prayer of thanks for the moment to catch your breath. The document was signed, sealed and sent out as you sat back down into your chair; 5 pm couldn’t come soon enough. 

The clock ticked slower and slower it seemed but 5 finally came and you were just about to shut down your computer when your boss finally opened his door. 

“Can I talk to you?” He asked, his face stern and you felt your blood run cold. It was a holiday weekend and everyone else was already gone for your floor. You scrambled to your feet and followed him into his office, grateful that the overwhelming smell of coffee had left your skirt. You took a seat on the opposite side of his desk as he rounded the deep mahogany and sat down, steepling his fingers and staring you down, making you break out in a nervous sweat. 

“You’ve worked here for what, 2...maybe 3 weeks now?” He asked. You swallowed hard, twisting your hands together in your lap before nodding,

“Y-yes sir.” Here it comes. You were being sacked. 

“In the last few weeks you have made mistake after mistake. I am trying to be lenient but honestly, some of theses mistakes are just downright amateur. When we contacted the temp agency, you came highly recommended but it’s making me feel like they were lying.” You took in a deep breath,

“Please, Mr. Smith, I know I can do better. It’s just been hard trying to get used to the office, the company. Everything is still so new. I--” He held a hand up and you grovelling your speech immediately. Your eyes cast down to the name plate on his desk. 

Dean Smith  
Director  
Sales and Marketing

God did you hate that stupid name plate. It was one of the many things you had to keep clean when he gave you a job of cleaning his office. You weren’t a bloody maid after all.

“Listen, I’m not going to fire...today.” Your head snapped back up to look at him. “I am incredibly cross with you though. Spilling your coffee all over that cover letter. You consistently make me look bad when you do things like that.” He slowly rose, rounding his desk, the buttons of his jacket undone as his hands came up to his tie. His eyes watched you, slightly hooded, a scowl on his face. “Do you understand just how unprofessional you make me look to the other people here?” Dean loosened his tie and popped open the top button of his collared shirt, you breath hitching in your throat when you dared to look up at him and were greeted with his hard sideways glance, his eyes burning into you. You unconsciously stiffened your posture as he rounded to stand behind you. “Do you even know just how bad it was that that document reached Sandover’s desk nearly 20 minutes after I had promised it? I have had to cover for you, time and time again just so you don’t lose your job. I’m thinking that maybe, just maybe,” he placed his hands on your shoulders, his taut stomach pressed to your back, “it’s high time you pay me back. It is because of me, after all, that you do still have this job.” 

You felt your body give a shudder under his heavy touch.

“W-what do you have in mind?” You already knew and you wanted it too, God did you want it. All the times his beautiful face had run rampant through your thoughts. And how bad you just wanted to rumple up that perfectly parted hair. His thumb was stroking the side of your neck absentmindedly as he let out a soft huff. 

“Oh, I’m certain you know what I have in mind. Maybe not to the extent this is going to go but still, you’ve got the key points.” He left your backside and slowly stalked his way to the side of you. You watched as he cast a hard gaze back down to you, his fingers loosening his tie and the tugging on it hard, the fabric-on-fabric zip sending chills down your spine. “Come here.” You scrambled to your feet, rounding the desk. He spun you around so your back was facing him and he pressed you flat to the deep colored wood. Your hands gripped the opposite edge of the desk as you felt him lean over you, his tie coming up and wrapping easily around your eyes. You made a whimpering sound at the sudden lose of one of your key senses but Dean just tutted his tongue. “Be a good girl and take what’s coming to you.” He whispered in your ear before straightening back up and taking in the sight of you bent over his desk.

He slowly pulled the fabric of your skirt up over your thighs, pooling it around your waist to expose your backside. You felt his hand, hot, heavy, calloused, run along the curve of your spine to the apple of your ass. He stood to one side of you, his free hand holding the pooled up fabric in his strong grip as he smoothed at the panty clad flesh. He didn’t say a word as he took his hand away, setting up before smacking it back down on your ass. You yelped, your fingers curling over the edge of the desk, white knuckling the dark wood. Dean didn’t stop to reprimand you or admonish any sounds, instead, he continued his assault of your ass; slap after slap, you felt your ass sting and burn. But you also felt a growing wetness between your legs. 

After a long bout of discipline, he stopped, his own breath labored, your skin broken out in a soft sheen of sweat from tensing so hard. His fingers came easily slid across the reddened flesh before sliding down between your legs, making your knees snap together, another squeaking escaping your mouth. 

“Look at that, even when I’m disciplining you, you can’t contain yourself.” His stepped behind you, the familiar sound of a zipper being undone as he pulled himself from the confines of his perfectly pressed dress pants. “Well, I guess that makes two of us then, huh?” You felt him lay himself against your backside, his thick, hard cock on your soft supple flesh. You let out a whimper as you felt his hand glide easily down and hook a finger in your panties, pulling the fabric aside. He gripped the base of his cock before sliding the tip between your wet folds. Instinctively you pulled your legs further apart for him which made him let out a low rumbling chuckle, “So eager. Tell me, what do you want? And get right to it, I don’t want you wasting anymore of my damn time.” You swallowed hard at the lump in your throat, picking your head up despite your bound eyes and speaking clearly,

“I want you, sir. I want you and your hard cock. I want you to fuck me so hard.” You moved your hips back, making the head of his cock slip between your folds, toying at your entrance. He let out a hiss through gritted teeth, one of his hands flying up to grip your hip. 

“Well, seems like someone is making exactly progress.” He spoke finally, “Guess I could avoid you a little reward.” Without letting you retort, he plunged deep into you, a gasp escaping your gaped mouth as a low grunt left his, “ungh fuuuck.” He gripped both your hips painfully tight as he leaned forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder blade. Slowly, he began to thrust into you, both of you falling into a rhythm of moans and gasps. He picked his head up, his lips kissing your neck, surprisingly sweetly before pushing himself up to look down on you. His hands found the zipper of your dress and pulled it down easily, pulling the neck line down, your arms falling to your sides but, instead of him removing the top, he left it midway down, your arms effectively pinned to your sides, back free to him.

His pace quickened as he leaned forward once more, trailing kisses down the goosebumped flesh, his soft new stubble scratching at the sensitive skin. He kissed his way down your neck to the back of your shoulder until he sank his teeth in the protruding shoulder blade, making you yelp, your belly arching into the dark wood. He lapped his tongue at the bite mark before doing the same thing to the opposite shoulder blade, a shudder wracking through your body as his hips thrust hard into you, his teeth pulling at the taut flesh.

“Oh God, Mr. Smith, please. Please.” You whined as your hips shot back to meet one of his thrusts, he grunted, his hands coming to the tie at your eyes before sliding the fabric over your face and letting it come to rest around your neck. He straightened himself back up into a standing position, his hips never breaking their stride as he pulled on the loose fabric of the tie, tilting your head back and adding just the right amount of pressure to make it slightly hard for you to breath. Your fingers dug into the deep wood as he pounded into you. Soon, his hand came up and lifted your leg so it was resting on the desk, gripped your opposite hip tight and pounded mercilessly into you. 

The other hand was still tightly wound in the tie and you were gasping between having the air fucked out of you and the constriction he was applying to your throat. With the new angle, he was able to fuck you to the edge of your climax and, just as you were about to tip over into the deep abyss of pleasure, he balled up your hair and pulled it tight along with the tie,

“Don’t you dare. Not yet, only when I say so.” He growled out, dark and powerful. A few more deep thrusts, each one pounding into your most tender pleasurable spot inside of you and a couple of gasping squeals, he gave the word and you felt yourself tumble over the edge, eyes screwing tightly shut, a long string of moans leaving your mouth as you came around his cock which he continuously fucked into you. A few more thrusts and he pulled himself out, shallowly thrusting his cock along your folds, the tip pointed downward, spilling out against the floor. He pulled the tie off of you and fell back, slumping into his chair, panting hard. 

You swallowed shallowly, uprighting yourself on shaky legs before pulling your dress back on all the way and tugging the skirt down. You heard him tuck himself away and pull up his zipper before feeling his fingers gently ghosting your back, helping you tug up your own dress zipper. 

“T-thank you.” You murmur breathlessly before setting to work on cleaning the mess out of instinct. 

“Oh, just leave it. The cleaning crew will be here in,” he panted checking his watch before staring back at you, “about 20 minutes. They won’t ask questions. Never do really.” He said before standing and fixing his shirt buttons and replacing his tie. “Go home, enjoy the holiday. But be ready to work on Monday morning.” He added the last bit with a sharp, stern voice. 

“Yes sir.” You spoke, face still flushed as you headed for the door, fingers absentmindedly fixing your hair. “Oh, Mr. Smith.” You called to him once reaching your door. “Thank you.” You saw his face contort into a look of confusion. “For everything. And by that I mean...well...everything.” He smirked, looking down at his desk then back at you,

“Don’t get used to it.” You shrugged,

“I’m a temp, Mr. Smith. I don’t get used to anything.” 

“Well, maybe when you’re not a temp here we could, I don’t know…” It was your turn to chuckle,

“Don’t get used to this, Mr. Smith. Nothing is permanent when you live the life of a temp.” You turned on your heels, giving your ass a playful sway before gathering your things at your desk and heading out. 

You were just pulling his leg though; maybe, just maybe, if he was good to you, you would take him up on that offer.


End file.
